


Birth of a Bass

by potter_queen



Category: Gossip Girl (TV 2007)
Genre: Birth, F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:48:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26520040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potter_queen/pseuds/potter_queen
Summary: Henry is born- a fic about Chuck's pre-birth jitters.
Relationships: Chuck Bass/Blair Waldorf
Comments: 7
Kudos: 71





	Birth of a Bass

**Author's Note:**

> So this is totally un-betad. I wrote this quite a while ago. While I firmly believe that Chuck would be an incredible father, I also really believe that he would have had a lot of nerves, and probably rehash a lot of trauma during Blair's pregnancy. This is my take on that.

It was six o’clock and Chuck Bass was on his way home. 

Before, this was the part of the day that Chuck looked forward to the most. These days, when he was sitting in the limo on, he was willing the traffic to thicken, the limo to break down,  _ anything _ to delay his return. By Murphy’s Law, of course, Chuck made it home in record time.

Chuck trudged up the stairs instead of taking the elevator, dawdling at each floor by fixing his shoelaces or adjusting his tie. He knew what was waiting for him in the apartment, and he didn’t want to face it.

Blair’s patience with him had snapped that morning. It had been coming for weeks, and Chuck knew it. He was surprised she had lasted so long, particularly with the hormones wreaking havoc on her emotions.

As the pregnancy wore on and Blair’s belly grew, so did Chuck’s paralyzing terror. At the beginning of the pregnancy, Chuck had felt elated, full of pure joy and anticipation. He waited on Blair, hand and foot, showering her with love and adoration. They had been some wonderful months.

Then the decorators had come to design the nursery. Strange contraptions began to appear in the kitchen, with temperature gauges and softly rounded corners. Blair began to ply him with books with smiling babies on the covers, earmarked with pink post-its at all the chapters she thought he ought to read. He read the books from cover to cover. The information from the different books clashed- each described a different way to bathe a baby, a different way to put a baby to sleep, they disagreed on the do’s and dont’s of discipline, of nutrition, of education. Chuck put down each book feeling more uncertain. 

When he closed his eyes he saw himself as a teenager, but he was looking at himself from his father’s point of view. His teenaged self sneered at him, turned away to walk off with a gaggle of teenage girls. When he slept at night he dreamt of the child he would soon have, faceless but very small and vulnerable, telling Chuck he was a disappointing father.

He felt himself withdraw. It felt horrible- he hadn’t felt so much self loathing and self doubt since he was a teenager. He knew what was wrong; he knew that Blair knew what was wrong, to anyone who knew him at all it was glaringly obvious that he was absolutely terrified.

He was terrified he would be to his child what Bart had been to him; distant, cold, always out of reach and always disappointed. He was terrified he wouldn’t know how to love his child. What if he looked at his baby and felt… nothing? His relationship with Blair was irreversibly changed- it would never be just the two of them again. What if he disappointed her, if he wasn’t the father she hoped he would be? She would grow to resent him. One day he would arrive home to find she had left, and he would be alone, alone,  _ alone _ again.

He had vowed, when he found out Blair was pregnant, that his child would not be raised by nannies. He had vowed to bathe him, to feed him, to change him, to rock him to sleep at night. It had sounded so simple, seemed to clear, but now he knew how complicated those tasks truly were. Babies were so fragile, so  _ delicate, _ and Chuck was inadequate. What if he were to hurt his child, to harm him in some way? Surely it was safer, he decided, if he did not try, that way, he could not fail, could not  _ harm… _

He had continued to pander to Blair’s every whim. He loved her so much that when he looked at her, he had to look away, consumed with guilt at what he had done to her. She was stuck with him forever now, their link could never be broken. He had ensnared her, when all he had ever wanted was to set her free. 

He fretted endlessly about her, ensuring she had the best of everything. He made sure she had no work to do in their home; a team of housekeepers kept the apartment pristine, and well stocked with everything Blair could ever think to want. She received daily visits from the best obstetrician money could buy, and a nutritionist prepared her every meal.

He grew steadily more terrified of hurting her in any way. After a few months, he had began to refuse to have sex with her. Slowly, the fear progressed until he could barely touch her at all. For weeks now, he had slept in the guest room.

He crept into her room at night, and watched her sleep for hours, clutching his chest while his heart broke with physical pain. He would stay until she began to stir, then hurried from the room, leaving behind him bunches of peonies, copies of her favourite novels and other little trinkets. He was desperate that she know he was there, that he loved her more than words could express.

He would leave for work before she woke.

He arranged evening meetings and business dinners, always trying to delay the inevitable. No matter the hour, however, Blair would be waiting for him.

She would be there, quietly sipping tea or reading a magazine, her swollen feet perched on a pouffe. His eyes would lock with hers and he would feel her desperation roll off her in waves that hit him like bullets.

_ “It doesn’t have to be like this, Chuck,” she would plead tearfully.  _

_ “You don’t have to be scared, we’re going to do this together-” _

_ “I’m scared, Chuck, and I need you-” _

She had been so patient, for so long, reaching out to him, trying to find him through the fog of his self-hatred. But he hadn’t let her. 

Finally, Chuck pushed open the door to his apartment. All the lights were off, and it was cold, like it had been unoccupied all day.

Moving like he was in a dream, a horrible dream he could not wake up from, Chuck entered the dark room. He dropped his briefcase, shrugged off his jacket and toed off his shoes. He made his way to the wet bar by the window and poured himself a finger of scotch. He was dimly aware that he was shaking. Perhaps he was crying. What did it matter? He was all alone.

He remembered her, that morning, sobbing and dragging a bag behind her.  _ “I’m going to stay with my mother, Chuck,” she had been more beautiful than Chuck had ever seen her, her eyes wild and wet with tears. “I can’t be with you one more day when you’re like this!” _

_ “Where are you, Chuck?!” she had shrieked at him, hysterical and gorgeous. “Look at me!” _

But he couldn’t. He stood, impassive and unable to move his body as she left the apartment. He had downed a glass of scotch when she was gone, then went to the office.

There were three weeks left to her due date, and Chuck didn’t know what to do. He did not know how long he stood, barefoot and staring out over New York, but when the lights flicked on, he jumped and whipped around, his heart soaring for a split second, thinking she had come back.

She hadn’t, and his hard little heart fell like a rock to the bottom of the empty pit inside him. It was Nate, and Chuck simply turned away again.

He heard Nate cross the room, and then his warm hand was gripping Chuck’s shoulder firmly. It was dark out, and now, with the lights on, Chuck couldn’t see New York in the window, just himself, staring at him blankly.

“Come on, mate,” Nate said quietly. Chuck let himself be led, childlike, to the couch. Nate eased the glass out of Chuck’s hand. Chuck dropped his head into his hands and stayed like that. 

“Have I ever told you my first memory of you?” Nate said suddenly. Chuck waited for him to elaborate, but when it became clear that he wouldn’t without a reply, Chuck spoke reluctantly, muffled into his palms.

“No, Nathaniel, you haven’t.”

“It was kindergarten sports day,” Nate said fondly. “And we were in the final of the sprints. Do you remember this?”

Chuck shook his head, no.

“Well, anyway,” Nate went on, unperturbed. “The second before the whistle goes, you turn around to me and kick me right in the shin. And then you’re off, and obviously I can’t catch up! You were such a sneaky bastard back then, Chuck. The teacher had turned around for half a second, and you took the opportunity. That was when I decided that I wanted to be your friend.”

Chuck smiled a little. What a strange start to their friendship. Any other kid would have hated Chuck for a stunt like that, but apparently not Nathaniel. He had been Chuck’s first real friend, and, for much of his life, his only real friend.

“I idolised you when we were growing up,” Nate admitted. At this, Chuck lifted his head from his hands to look at his friend.

“It’s true,” Nate said with the easy grin of his that had not changed in all the years Chuck had known him. “You’ve always been more than just a friend to me, Chuck. You’re like a brother to me.”

Touched, Chuck opened his mouth to reply, but Nate cut him off before he could speak.

“I’ve looked up to you all my life, Chuck. Especially in the last few years, how much you’ve grown, and the man you’ve become. Your work ethic has inspired me to work harder, what you have with Blair has inspired me to find that some day. You’re a great businessman, and a great husband, and a fucking great friend, and you’re going to be a  _ great  _ father. You are nothing like your father, you’re completely your own man, and the only person who can’t see all that is  _ you! _ ”

Chuck tore his eyes away from Nate, his throat constricting. “But I have no fucking idea what I’m doing! I’ve already screwed everything up with Blair, and I’m going to screw everything up with my kid-”

“Listen to me! Listen to me,” Nate grabbed Chuck by the shoulder and shook him roughly. “ _ No one _ knows what they’re doing. Ever. Especially not new parents. The only thing you have to do is be there. You do that and you’re already better than half the fucked up parents in New York.”

Chuck is saved from replying when his phone begins to ring. He hurriedly answers it when he sees the ID.

“Cyrus? What’s wrong? Is Blair okay?” Beside him, Nate looks up anxiously.

“No,” Chuck is on his feet. “That can’t be, the due date is still three weeks away, I- I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

In his haste to get to the door, Chuck drops his phone. “Blair’s gone into labour!” he practically shouts at Nate, pulling on his shoes and running to the elevator door. He lets out a frustrated roar when the doors do not open immediately, and, for the second time that night, he throws open the door to the stairwell.

“Wait!” he hears Nate shout. “You forgot-”

But Chuck does not hear what he has forgotten. He is taking the stairs, two at a time, a single thought running through his mind.  _ Get to Blair. _

~

Chuck has never really got over his intense aversion to hospitals. He associates them with pain and death in his mind, and as such, tries to avoid them as much as he can. Today, he dives out of his limo and sprints straight inside, shouting his name and demanding to be brought to his wife.

He leaves the nurse behind him as soon as she gives him Blair’s room number, ignoring her shouts of ‘no running!’ as he sprints down the corridor to find her. There is screaming all around him, and the flash of hysteria that thrills through him when he hears Blair’s voice feels like it could kill him.

“Blair!” he bursts into the room and there she is. His sudden relief at seeing her, at being near her, is so palpable it causes him to trip forward towards her bed.

“Chuck!” she is crying. Her face is red and twisted in pain, but exquisite relief floods her features at the sight of him. 

He is by her side in an instant; his hands in her hair and on her face, his lips kissing her hot skin, over and over again until he’s drunk on her, and he doesn’t think he will ever be able to let go.

“Chuck,” she is moaning. “Chuck, chuck-”

“I’m sorry,” he cries, kissing her eyelids, her forehead, her wrists, her knuckles, “I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t leave me again, Chuck, never leave me again-” she is clutching his back, touching his face, his chest, as though she wants to touch every part of him to ground her, to prove he is really there.

“Never,” he swears, “I’ll never leave you, Blair. You or the baby, I’ll take care of you-”

Blair interrupts him with a scream of pain. He flinches in panic but his arms stay wrapped around her. She clings to his shirt, her face buried in his chest. His skin absorbs the sound of her pain, taking everything and halving it.

“What’s wrong?” Chuck asks, beside himself, looking frantically at Serena and Eleanor, who he notices, for the first time, are in the room. “What’s the matter?”

“They’re the contractions,” Eleanor says, touching Chuck’s hand. “She’s doing perfectly.”

Blair pants as the contraction passes. She pulls Chuck’s face to hers. “I love you,” she says. “I love you, Chuck Bass.”

“I love you too, Blair. So much. And we’re going to do this. We’re going to love our baby so much. I’m so sorry I haven’t been there-”

“Don’t-” Blair grits out as another contraction begins. “Don’t apologise. You’re here now. I never doubted you wouldn’t be-”

The labour is tough but short. In a matter of hours, their baby is born. Chuck cries uncontrollably, barely aware and completely uncaring of the other people in the room. When he holds his baby for the first time he begins to laugh. All the fear from the past months washes away like it had never existed. He sees clearly now that he had nothing to be afraid of. Love for his son completely overwhelms him, and he knows that no earthly force could keep him away from his child. He will change nappies and prepare baths, he will sterilize bottles and wake up in the middle of the night to rock his baby to sleep. These things he had feared so much seem so trivial now. Caring for someone he loves this much could never be anything but easy.

Their family comes to see the new baby. All four of Blair’s parents. Lily, Serena and Eric. Nate knocks on the door shyly, as though he is unsure whether he should be there. Chuck calls him right in, unable to keep the grin off his face as he proudly shows off his son to his best friend. Nate is simply delighted, touching his little fingers tentatively congratulating them both.

He claps Chuck on the shoulder as he watches the new family, Blair holding the baby in bed and Chuck tucked right up next to her, his arms encircling his family. “So,” he prompts with a grin. “What’s his name?”

Chuck and Blair exchange smiles before Chuck looks up and says; “Everyone, meet Henry Nathanial Bass.”

There are exclaims of delight all around the room, but Chuck only has eyes for Nate, who is looking between the three of them in disbelief.

“Nathaniel?”

“Of course,” Chuck says warmly. “We wanted him to have a family name.”

Nate squeezes his shoulder, looking overcome. “Thanks, guys,” he says earnestly. “That means a lot to me.”

It’s a long time later when everyone starts to leave. Nate is nearly out the door when he turns back suddenly. “Hey, Chuck! I nearly forgot.” He throws Chuck a pair of rolled up, purple socks, which Chuck catches incredulously. “You must have been missing them.”

“Nathaniel… what are you talking about?”

“You mean… you haven’t noticed?” Nate says with great amusement. “Look at your feet, man.”

Bewildered, Chuck reaches down to pull up the leg of his suit slightly. His mouth falls open when he realises he is sockless. Blair takes one look and bursts into a fit of giggles.

“You were in such a rush to get here you didn’t even realise,” Nate explains, grinning at a mortified Chuck.

“I think it’s romantic,” Blair tells him, a slight tease in her voice. Chuck looks at her and decides going sockless was completely worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> As for the forgotten sock anecdote, this was inspired by the true story of my own dad when I was born. I've always found it a really endearing story, and one which shows my dad's love and eagerness to become a dad. <3


End file.
